


The Roads are Wrapped around Your Waist

by jusrecht



Category: Super Junior
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-23
Updated: 2014-01-23
Packaged: 2018-01-09 19:03:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 854
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1149674
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jusrecht/pseuds/jusrecht
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jongwoon is going away.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Roads are Wrapped around Your Waist

**Author's Note:**

> The title is taken from the song _Time_ by Cute Is What We Aim For.

“You will take care of him, right?”  
  
Kyuhyun’s eyes are half closed. It is the end of another long day in front of flashing cameras—his last for many months, Jongwoon reflects with some degree of wistfulness. The melancholy piles on top of his bone-numbing exhaustion and both, working in tandem, are enough to loosen the firm clasp he usually keeps around his mouth.  
  
Jongwoon will not have minded so much. After all, separation is imminent, and he may as well be honest for one last time before leaving them all. The irony lies in the fact that he is having this conversation with Kyuhyun instead of the other member of their triangle.  
  
“You know,” Kyuhyun suddenly says, his voice quiet but oddly rough, “I never understand why you two never got together.”  
  
 _Because I’m a coward,_ Jongwoon thinks. _Because we both are. Because there are so many things in life worth fighting for and apparently this isn’t one of them._  
  
“And now you’re going away,” Kyuhyun continues. His eyes are now wide open, and they have gained a kind of look which Jongwoon only ever sees on stage, or behind a microphone. Kyuhyun holds his fierceness like a sword, skilfully in a firm clasp. “Of course I’ll take care of him. We’ll take care of each other. That’s what we do.”  
  
“I know.” He flashes the younger man a weak but sincere smile. Jealousy has no place in this. Ryeowook and Kyuhyun have always been close in ways that don’t include him, a closeness defined by age and shared past. He understands, and now he is grateful.  
  
“So don’t worry about us,” Kyuhyun tells him, voice softening a fraction. “We’re not complete without you, _hyung_ , but we’re not completely helpless either.”  
  
“No one knows that better than I do,” Jongwoon declares fervently, and then pulls a blushing, resisting Kyuhyun into a hug.  
  
  
–  
  
  
His talk with Ryeowook is considerably less smooth.  
  
The younger man is thoroughly silent as Jongwoon stumbles over his words every five seconds or so. He begins with his complete faith in both Ryeowook and Kyuhyun and how he is absolutely sure that the group can depend on them—but then quickly proceeds to work himself into a black hole of nouns and adjectives (from which he cannot seem to get out).  
  
“My point is,” Jongwoon begins again after he abandoned yet another unfinished sentence, “we won’t see each other for two years–”  
  
“ _Hyung_ ,” Ryeowook suddenly interrupts him, his smile hesitant but kind, “we _will_ see each other. It’s not like you’re going to the other side of the world. You can always contact us when you have free time.”  
  
Jongwoon sighs. “That’s not what I’m trying to say.”  
  
“Then what are you trying to say?”  
  
And Jongwoon tells him, the thing that usually happens to a pair of lovers in a situation like this. The guy goes into the army and asks the girl to wait for him. Or they break up so neither has to carry that burden for two years. “Either way,” he says, wilting a little under Ryeowook’s hard stare, “I think it’s a pretty shitty turn of event. So maybe having nothing is better.”  
  
Ryeowook says nothing for some time; then suddenly: “And that’s why you’re moping right now instead of kissing the life out of me?”  
  
Jongwoon gapes, but manages to recover himself after a minute or so. “Sort of,” he bravely admits.  
  
There is a huff coming from the other end of the couch. Jongwoon is looking down at the space between his knees when a hand touches his chin, and he looks up with a start.  
  
“I don’t believe you,” Ryeowook states, his expression stern, almost angry. “Two years of waiting is difficult, true, and many relationships don’t even last that long. But tell me that I’m not the only one you see for at least the last six months and aren’t worth at least _one_ try.”  
  
“You are,” Jongwoon says, somewhere between panicked and confused and desperate. “Not one. Many, many tries. It’s just that I–”  
  
“Then don’t say anything,” Ryeowook tells him, quiet but firm. “I listen to you every time you sing. I know.”  
  
And Jongwoon discovers that of course he’s an idiot and Ryeowook is right. He never feels more complete than when he stands on stage, with his friends, and hears his voice being carried on the wings of theirs, creating a harmony that shatters hearts and knocks the door of heaven. Because Jongwoon and singing is like birds and flying. It’s not love; it’s something more, something like a necessity.  
  
And they understand.  
  
“I’ll wait,” Ryeowook says again, smiling a brave little smile that always takes Jongwoon’s breath away. “Until we stand on the same stage once more.”  
  
Then none of that burden-of-waiting and pain-of-being-chained shit matters, because the aimlessly drifting pieces fall into place when Ryeowook leans in and kisses the top of his head.  
  
It takes him years, but Jongwoon wouldn’t have it any other way.  
  
“Thank you,” he says, and the words spread, silent and sure, ripples of promise on the water of time.  
  
  


—

  
  
---


End file.
